


Suddenly Jeremy

by ScripStrel



Series: Stagedorks [2]
Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Squip, Crushes, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Friendship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Kissing, Love Confessions, Male-Female Friendship, Musical References, Showmance, Songfic, Theatre, little shop of horrors - Freeform, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 10:01:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15507687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScripStrel/pseuds/ScripStrel
Summary: Middleborough does Little Shop of Horrors. Christine realizes that maybe this feeling is more than Audrey liking Seymour."Just me, and a toaster, and a sweet little guy, like Jeremy."





	Suddenly Jeremy

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I get story ideas out of the blue from songs that I've already heard many, many times. 
> 
> Spoilers for Little Shop of Horrors. They're pretty vague, but potential spoilers nonetheless.  
> They're not all mentioned, but I did imagine all of the Squip Squad being involved in the show.  
> Jeremy as Seymour,  
> Christine as Audrey,  
> Michael as Audrey II,  
> Jake as Orin,  
> Rich as Mr. Mushnik,  
> Chloe, Brooke, and Jenna as Crystal, Ronette, and Chiffon.
> 
> Also, I love and appreciate comments and kudos, as always.

“I dream about it all the time. Just me, and a toaster, and a sweet little guy, like… Seymour.” Christine’s breath caught. Her heart was pounding, and not because she was about to sing one of her favorite songs in one of her favorite shows on opening night in front of the only full house Middleborough had gotten in at least a decade. No, it was because she had almost  _ messed up. _ It was because of  _ why _ she had almost messed up, but for now, she had almost broken character. She knew better. She had always known better. Christine shook herself, mind zooming back in on the lights beating down on her face. She began to sing, drifting out into the sweet, floaty melody. 

“A matchbox of our own,” her and Seymour.

“A fence of real chain-link,” an ugly kind of fence to fantasize about, really, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that it was Seymour’s fence. 

Audrey and Seymour’s fence. Her and Seymour. Seymour, Seymour.

Seymour.

Jeremy.

It was a good thing that Christine knew the song so well, because her mind had wandered to anything but Audrey’s dreams of sixties’ suburbia. 

Jeremy Heere, her mild-mannered classmate since seventh grade, had been cast as Seymour Krelborn in the spring musical, and he had blown everyone away in an instant. Sure, he did well enough during  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ first semester. It was clear that he had a certain love for theatre, and Christine always,  _ always,  _ respected that in anyone. But he had just been good. Yeah, that was practically mind-blowing next to the play’s usual low quality, provided by whoever got roped in for need of an extracurricular, but now… No one knew where it had come from. No one had expected it, but here he was. A complete natural with a gorgeous voice. He wasn’t just good anymore. He was stellar. 

So maybe Christine had blamed her sudden attention to him on that. She was attracted to talent, for sure, if shameless celebrity crushes on several broadway actors had anything to say for it. Or maybe she blamed it on the fact that she had always been more of a method actor than might’ve been healthy. If Audrey was in love with Seymour, Christine would find things in Jeremy to pay attention to and use to that end. 

Or maybe it was less blame and more denial.

Because it wasn’t just his singing and acting. It was the little things she had never noticed until she was spending several hours a day with him. It was the nervous smile and faint blush when he got a complement, the way he brushed his hair out of his eyes, the snorting giggles he made the first time Rich Goranski had started into the Mushnik and Son choreography and at all of the meaningless inside jokes that traveled the cast, the way his eyes lit up when talking about something he enjoyed, the way his eyebrows wrinkled together with curious confusion, the habit he had of sticking his tongue out as an end-all to any teasing argument, and on, and on, and on. 

She’d been noticing it for a long time. She hadn’t cared to think about it. What had changed all of a sudden? Why did it have to change in the middle of a show? In the middle of a scene? Why were feelings a mess?

At least the song was about that sort of thing anyway. 

The last phrase faded out, sounding almost exactly like Part of Your World from  _ The Little Mermaid, _ which Christine had pointed out enough to annoy just about everyone. Menken showing his hand there. She traipsed offstage, met by Jeremy, grinning down at her. 

“That was great—amazing. Really, that song is so perfect in your voice,” he whispered. His hair was curling around his ears. The tacky sweater vest he was wearing clashed horribly with the striped shirt underneath. His costume glasses magnified his eyes, and Christine couldn’t tear hers away. How was it that Seymour was supposed to look as dorky as possible, even with dialogue about his complete lack of fashion sense, and yet Jeremy was still so endearing? He actually  _ pulled it off. _

“Thanks,” Christine breathed. Her face was buzzing. She fought down her smile, turning to see the stage set for their next scene. She smoothed her dress and rushed to her place, pretending everything was perfectly fine. Pretending she hadn’t just realized she was head over heels. 

* * *

“Oh, no,” Christine said, skin going cold.

“What?” Jake Dillinger, who was playing the recently deceased Dr. Orin Scrivello D.D.S., asked. It was intermission, with everyone scattered about backstage for costume changes and water breaks. Christine was fiddling with her microphone, pulling her hair out of the cosmetic tape holding it to her cheek. “Did I hit you too hard? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”

“What? No, you’re fine. It was just like rehearsal.”

“Oh, okay. Good. Damn, I hate that scene,” Jake muttered, pulling at the sleeves of his dentist uniform. “I promise I would never say any of that about you for real. Or about anyone, for that matter.”

“Jake,” Christine said, laying a hand on his shoulder. Yes, she would usually have to reach up to do it, but Jake was perched on the piano bench in the green room this time. “I know. You tell me this every time we do it. I don’t blame you for your character being a creep. In fact, I think it’s really cool that you’re so good at it but still so sweet on this side of the stage. Don’t worry about it.” Jake let out a breath and smiled. 

“Thanks,” he said, standing and pulling her into a massive hug, “you’re too good, Chris. But, um… what was the problem if it wasn’t me being too good at being a dick?” 

“Oh.” Christine felt the blood rush to her face. She laughed nervously. “I uh… I kinda just remembered that Jeremy and I have to kiss later.”

Jake raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Haven’t you already run it basically a hundred times?”

Christine swallowed and fiddled with her mic again. “Yeah, but it kinda feels different this time. Because it’s in front of an audience, you know?”

“No, not really,” Jake said with a shrug. “Never really had trouble kissing anyone I liked, honestly. I’ve never done it on stage though, so maybe.”

“You—? How did you know I like him?” Christine said in a harsh whisper, eyes widened. Her face had grown even warmer, if that were possible. 

Jake smiled. “I didn’t.” Christine shrunk into herself. Oops. Jake clapped her on the shoulder. “But I do now. I’d say go for it. You never know if he might like you back.”

“I don’t know…” Christine was interrupted by the call for places, and she thanked Jake, giving him a hug and rushing off.

“Break a leg!” He called after her. 

* * *

Suddenly Seymour was probably Christine’s favorite song. Yes, Somewhere That’s Green was too. She really struggled to pick a single favorite. She had at least five, but this one was definitely up there. For one of her favorites, though, it was causing her way too much stress. She was  _ acting, _ dammit. She was supposed to be able to get lost in the role. And yet she was left zoning out of her own singing. She was too focused on her heartbeat in her throat every time she looked over at Jeremy, who was doing a great job at exactly what he was supposed to be doing: singing his heart out along with her and looking at her like she was his reason for living. Or, more accurately, his reason for continuing to murder people instead of doing the sane thing and destroying that plant when he could. As much as she knew he was acting, as much as she knew he was supposed to look at her like that and would no matter what either of them thought or felt, part of her hoped it was genuine.

Part of her was tempted to believe it, too.

During the Entr’acte, standing in the wings and trying to distract herself with the knowledge that she would soon be back on stage where she could be whoever she wanted, in love or not, Christine had a rushed conversation with Michael Mell.

Michael was Jeremy’s best friend, pressured into auditioning by a desperately excited Jeremy. He was an amazing Audrey II, probably the only person Jeremy could have chemistry with without being physically present, given the fact that they’d been attached at the hip for as long as anyone could remember. Still, he’d only accepted the role because it was entirely offstage. He prefered the tech side of things, but he was doing a great job nonetheless. Very menacing. Christine also couldn't stop thinking about the very cute, half-disgusted way Jeremy's face had scrunched up when he doubled over laughing at Michael first saying those of his lines which were accompanied by hungry gobbling groans. 

Michael had sensed Christine’s nerves. It wasn’t stagefright. She never got stagefright. It was so much worse. He asked her what was wrong as the orchestra started up again, and she was frazzled enough not to think twice about giving an honest answer. 

“About time,” he responded.

“What?”

“Look, Christine. You’ve just gotta go out there and do what you’ve gotta do. God knows Jeremy doesn’t have the balls to initiate anything on his own. I don’t care what you do. Tell him in person, write a letter, just full on make out with him. It doesn’t matter. But you’re gonna have to be the one to do it.” She didn’t have a chance to process his words, much less answer, as he smiled and ushered her out onto stage as the lights began to fade up. 

But now one of her favorite songs was ending and she was running out of time. 

They had rehearsed it dozens of times. It was a simple stage kiss. Barely a peck. Christine hadn’t ever thought anything of it before, even if Jeremy was a spluttering mess at the very idea at first. Now, her mind was reeling. It was usually reeling, but this was more of an insane, screeching jumble. Her mind was screaming at her to run far away. It was screaming at her to pull Jeremy down by the collar and press her lips to his and never let him go. It was screaming at her to pretend nothing was wrong and just never think about any of it again, never even look at Jeremy again, and hope they’d both forget.

Well, the last one definitely wasn’t an option. They had three more shows to go, where he would keep looking at her like she hung the stars in the sky. Three more shows where he would lean in and their lips would barely brush and she would feel like she was exploding because now she wanted it to mean something. Three more shows where she’d want to set herself on fire because that would be easier than dealing with it. 

Screw it.

Jeremy leaned in for their kiss, the same as every other time they’d run it, and Christine pulled him closer. She deepended the embrace, looping her arms around his shoulders. Jeremy made a noise of surprise beneath her lips. Christine was about to yank away and spend the next several scenes thinking of an excuse, something about it being an attempt to make it more realistic for opening night, but Jeremy relaxed. He reached up to cup her face in his hands, and Christine went dizzy, lost in some hazy heaven. Time froze, warm and star-studded. The brush of Jeremy’s thumb across her cheek sent sparks dancing across her skin, turning her to jelly. 

He was kissing  _ back. _

All too soon, Rich’s next line was pulling them apart. Right. The  _ show. _ It was the first time she had ever forgotten she was on stage, and she had loved every second. What was Jeremy  _ doing _ to her?

In the end, it didn’t matter. He pulled her aside after curtain call, telling her he’d had a crush on her since freshman year and hadn’t ever expected her to feel the same, and she probably still didn’t and he'd just made it weird, but he really enjoyed the kiss, and that she didn’t have to, but he’d love to go get ice cream or something sometime.

And if that wasn’t enough for Christine to be glad she’d gotten eaten by a giant plant puppet for this guy, the fact that their kisses for the next three shows were just as passionate sealed the deal.


End file.
